Enough!

God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love and self-control. (2 Timothy 1:7)

It’s been awhile, and, truth be told, I have not been in the best of places –spiritually, mentally or physically — over the last few months. Despite all my conscious efforts and proclamations of faith, I found myself ‘coping’, rather than flourishing. I’m not entirely sure what to attribute my sinking depression to, but in a round about way it could be a product of Covid: the uncertainty of the economic situation, the self-imposed isolation from friends and family, the constant friction with those close to you, the drudgery of computer-based work, the sameness of every day life, the lack of stimulation, and the list goes on. Add to this a crippling hormonal imbalance that turns me into a bi-polar schizophrenic that swings from the chandeliers while simultaneously wailing like an elderly widow, a home intrusion and theft, … and the last straws are stacked neatly on the camel’s back.

In the midst of all this gnashing of teeth, self-loathing, angst, self-medicating, yo-yo dieting, and a hundred other less wholesome coping mechanisms, we decided to sell our house and move. No fun for a man with a debilitating fear of change. The result was that for the first time in my whole life, I found myself in a situation where I simply could not hold myself together and despite knowing, really knowing, the truth about my salvation through Jesus Christ, I reverted to fear, lovelessness, and self-abuse, while abandoning all semblances of control and discipline. I recall describing this state to my wife as feeling like a wild soulless animal surviving solely to fulfill its basest needs. No hope, no will, no desire, no passion — just a rabid wolf roaming a desolate wilderness. The worst of it is, I could not fully expose the state I was in for fear of disappointing and alienating my family.

At my lowest point, I opened the YouVersion bible app on my phone and the verse of the day was 2 Timothy 1:7. So, I stood up an proclaimed it to every corner of my being: I DO NOT HAVE A SPIRIT OF FEAR! I HAVE A SPIRIT OF LOVE AND SELF-CONTROL! I sat down, opened my faithful old copy of my Utmost for His Highest, and read a quoted extract from Matthew 11:28, “… come to me all who labour and are heavy laden …”. So, I gave up. I gave up control of my life. I gave up my fears. I gave up my sin. I gave up my coping mechanisms. And, laid all these burdens at his feet.

Today it feels like 50 tons of muck has dropped out of my soul…

Till next time, may peace be upon you and your house.

Vigor and courage!

Have not I commanded you? Be strong, vigorous, and very courageous. Be not afraid, neither be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. (Joshua 1:9)

My family and I have been very ‘still’ these last 4 months. We’ve kept to ourselves, gone about our business, and above all managed to keep anxiety and fear at bay. It was God’s instruction at the beginning of the lock-down to “Be still and KNOW that I am God”. So, we did just that. We ran our lives silently and reflected on the mercy God has shown us during this time when millions of fellow countryman are facing extraordinary hardship.

It’s an unconscionable thing to say, given the destruction Covid-19 has wreaked on millions of lives, but I can’t help feeling that we are stronger now than at the beginning of this thing, with different priorities and the direction of our lives permanently course-corrected. It’s as if the lock-down has provided a period of rapid spiritual incubation; a time of unhindered reflection during which the thin film of God’s grace that covers every aspect of our lives started to shimmer and shine as it revealed its presence.

In my own spiritual life, it was as if the volume on everything turned down and this allowed God’s voice to pierce through the static in the air that kept us from hearing him. Everything I thought defined me dissipated from the palette of my existence leaving me with only hard lines that articulates the essence of my being. You are not defined by your possessions, you’re wealth, or your professional status. You’re not a hardcore biker when your Harley’s been parked for months! You’re a someone’s father, husband, son, and brother!

This time has permanently changed my outlook on everything. I simply cannot go back to chasing what I chased and fearing what I feared. I feel its time to stand up again and attack life with vigor and courage. New energy directed in a new way. A leaner, more focused life being propelled towards God’s will.

The time to be still has served its purpose. It has stripped us of the lies we tell ourselves about who we are and what we need. Now is the time rejoin the race, but as fearless sprinters with new direction and renewed purpose.

Be blessed, till next time.

Without grace!

I’m a big fan of classic horror movies. Ghosts and monsters don’t scare me. The ludicrous plots, poor set design, low production value, and predictable otherworldly antagonists are campy and funny. These movies make for lighthearted entertainment and a great escape from the far more frightening realities of the the world we live in. My wife and I do watch contemporary horror movies from time to time, but recently these started making me feel uneasy and oftentimes leave me feeling upset without any real reason I can pinpoint.

I dwelt on this a bit and realized that contemporary horror movies rarely feature supernatural antagonists any more and often the cause of the ‘horror’ is normal people acting horrifically in realistic settings. I started to realize that the reason these movies upset me is because they represent a plausible, albeit harrowing, reality that could come to pass — more so now in a time where we are facing a global pandemic that until recently could only have been imagined by a Hollywood director.

Ghouls and goblins give way to teenagers in masks that violently torture and murder strangers and maniacs that capture and molest the vulnerable and indigent. Horror movies have stopped being escapist fantasies in which the light always beats the darkness in the end. The realistic portrayals of debased human nature leave me feeling hollow and cold.

I don’t now what God’s opinion is of horror movies, but I do know that from time to time he shows me equally unsettling things. Things, that like the contemporary horror movies, leave me feeling shaken and distressed. Visions of loss, pain and despair in which those close to me become a cast of victims. Not victims of a deranged axe-wielding maniac, but of a life in which God’s grace is absent. What the holy spirit is attempting to make me aware of is the presence of God’s grace in our daily lives. He says, “Can you not see God? Are you still looking for a sign of God’s work in your life? Here is what it looks like when God’s grace, his very presence, is absent!”. These visions are a hundred times more horrific than any horror movie could ever be as they are ‘real’ — they are a reality in which God has withdrawn his grace from our lives.

This personal revelation has changed everything in my spiritual life. I am no longer praying for help or guidance or signs — I now thank God for his subtle presence in our lives. He layers our reality with his blessings and grace, and thereby keeping the horror at bay.

Until next time, switch off the TV and switch on your grace-filled life!

Unbelief!

“…do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink; nor about your body, what you will put on” (Matthew 6:25)

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Oswald Chamber’s My Utmost for his Highest is the most divinely inspired book, outside of the Bible, I’ve ever come across. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve struggled with an internal conflict and then flipped open this book to a random page only to find a direct message from God that addresses the exact matter I was struggling with. The pages of my copy are covered with exclamations that attest to the supernatural accuracy with which this book has managed to scold me, inspire me, bring me comfort, give me wisdom, and above all put me in direct communication with the almighty. I truly believe that God speaks to you through the channel of communication that most suits you – I’m a man of letters, so God speaks to me through books.

Despite trying to minimize my exposure to news media, I can’t help but prick my ears to the news of misfortune that circulates around us like a maelstrom of despair: the lay-offs, the business closures, whole families left without a single source of income, the deaths, etc. While not immediately affected upon hearing these things, I would, however, catch myself in random moments feeling like the world is collapsing around me an that I may not be able to continue providing for my family. In those moments, the beautiful innocent faces of my little children are torturous reminders of the fragility of life.

With winter coming, and not being able to go to stores to purchase some warm outfits for my growing children, I ordered online and the delivery came yesterday. As I unpacked the clothes, instead of feeling grateful for these blessed provisions, I felt a crushing and debilitating sadness. All I could think about was that this might be the last time we can buy clothes. As I went about the rest of my day this question kept echoing in my mind: what if this is the last time I can support my son’s passion for computer science by purchasing this piece of software, or what if we can no longer keep buying our little girl the puzzles she loves so much?

I recently replaced some musical equipment that was stolen a few months ago and the moment I took delivery, the same emotional torrent crashed over me. Should you be spending money on your hobby while you have a family to take care of? You and your wife are among the privileged few that can work during this time, but that can change at any moment. How are you going to feel when your income dries up and you can no longer feed your family because you bought a new amp for your guitar? Crushing thoughts that completely arrest me and leaves me raw inside. Above all, it robs me of enjoying the blessings I’m receiving right now. My fear of the future, kills the joy of today.

And then, I open Oswald’s book to a random page and read the following from a passage entitled ‘Our careful Unbelief’:

Don’t take the pressure of provision upon yourself. It is not only wrong to worry, it is unbelief; worrying means that we do not believe that God can look after the practical details of our lives, and it is never anything but those details that worry us.

How can this not be divinely inspired? This spoke directly and perfectly to my condition and allowed me to take a deep spiritual breath of relief. This is by no means permission to live irresponsibly with the resources God has blessed us with, but it is permission to live, really live, in the now. It is permission to experience the joy of the present, without tainting it with the burdens of a future that may not come to pass. Oswald goes on to explain that while the concerns of future strife steals our present joy, these ‘little worries’ also chokes the Word of God in our lives and robs us of his divine inspiration.

Until next time, be present and enjoy the blessing of now. Also, realize and truly internalize the principle of unbelief: if you allow little worries to choke the light out of your life, you are exclaiming that God does not have the ability to care for your needs. Easier said than done, but a practice we need to adopt if we want to truly live.

Stand still!

Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. Mark 4:38-39

One of my earliest memories is of a time I felt close to drowning. I was about 5 years old standing in shallow waters. My father is with me and the excited laughter and screaming of the children around me make me anxious and afraid. I feel the under-currents of the ocean tugging on my legs ever stronger as my father leads me deeper into the water. I let go of his hand — too afraid to go any further. The currents suddenly jerk me off my feet and my head goes under the water. For a long moment I’m caught in a maelstrom of swirling water and sand. I get my feet under me. My heart races and I can hear myself crying. I try to raise my voice over the noise, screaming for my father to take my hand. He smiles at me and beckons me to him. Urging me to come deeper. I regain some balance and try to step forward. The current swirls strongly around my feet and when I try to wade forward I lose my balance again and go under. Rolling and tumbling under the water I crash into the bodies standing around me. Someone pulls me erect. I’m disorientated but make out my father’s green bathing suit in the distance. I desperately trudge in his direction but the current threatens to pull me under again. Panicking now, I turn around and try to run towards the beach where I can make out my mother, standing with my baby sister on her hip. They’re waving at me. I dislodge my feet from the deep mud sucking me down. I lift my knees high as I try to sprint. I fall. Smacking my face hard on the water’s surface. I cry hysterically. My little body fills with dread as the undercurrents toss me around like a rag-doll. I regain my stance with difficulty spewing salt water from somewhere deep inside of me.

Then a clarity and a calmness settles on me and I realize that if I stand firmly, the swirling currents around my legs will keep me upright and steady. As long as I stand still. Allowing my body to sway with the currents but not daring to step out of the maelstrom swirling around my ankles. To survive the storm I must experience the storm. There is a process at play here.

In one swift move my father plucks me from my hold and tosses me into the air. He catches me high above his head and smiles up at me. He draws me to his chest and walks out of the sea. The water sprays against my back as his legs cuts through the ebb of the tide.

I was safe, but that feeling of hopeless dread was deeply carved into my soul. I would feel it many times after that and all throughout my life — and particularly now when the world seems darker than ever. The panic, the desperation, the hopelessness, the blood rushing to my head, draining from everywhere else … and then I steady myself. I stand still. Remembering to shift and move with the water. I would be safe if I remained in the middle of the maelstrom. Allowing the currents to steady me. As an adult, a man of forty with the responsibilities of family and work, and facing the uncertainties of this age, I feel the maelstrom threatening my balance more than ever.

When I think about that day, my mind goes to Jesus sleeping peacefully on the boat while the storm raged around him. I can imagine his body moving with the boat as it rode the waves up and down. Un-tethered, but unafraid. A man sleeping on a boat in a storm; a man still in the midst of turmoil. The message of the story always puzzled me. When I was younger I thought that Jesus was trying to teach his disciples to ignore the storm. Lately, I’ve been thinking he was trying to teach them how to keep faith despite the storm.

Did the 5-year old me forget the storm raging around his feet when he saw his father? Or, did the storm no longer matter when my salvation came into view?

I want to believe the latter.

Remember that the only way out, is through.

Blessings, till next time…

Shut up!

“The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent” (Exodus 14:14)

Exodus 14:14 is one of those verses that just will not leave me alone – it hounds me everywhere I go. During this whole Covid-19 thing, it is as if the world just got louder and the more we speak, strategize, plan, debate and speculate, the less forward motion there seems to be and the higher the death-rate climbs. It’s as if we are meant to realise how completely and utterly helpless we are and that no amount of human ingenuity will save us from this situation. The ‘curve’ will not flatten because we wish it so and while the common-sense measures pertaining to hygiene and social distancing will no doubt prove a hindrance in the virus’ path of destruction, it will not ‘save’ humanity. Among the cacophony of informed opinion, scientific commentary and opportunistic political rhetoric, all I can hear are God’s words to the Israelites: you have only to be silent.

I think that as a species supposedly occupying the ‘top of the food chain’ we want to believe that we are in control and that we create our own destinies. We do things, things are not done to us. We force our will on nature, it does not force its will on us. The prevalent humanistic world-view of this age is that we are the omnipotent masters of our realities and that victim-hood is ‘old hat’. “Own your life,” they say. But then a minuscule single-cell organism comes along and carries a hundred-thousand of us away. Just like that. A silent and violent murderer that robs you of the very air you breathe and which doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye as it sends you to your maker. An uncivilized death, for ‘civilized’ people.

It’s almost funny to see that despite our self-professed and dearly defended individuality we all go through the stereotypical stages of grief –denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance– as if we’re textbook subjects. We all start with the disbelief (This isn’t happening!); then go on to the kicking-and-screaming phase where we vow to fight and refuse to let this thing get us down (I won’t let this get me!); then we negotiate with God and ourselves (If I’m good, will I survive?); followed by the realization that we can’t make this go away and the depression that comes from hopelessness (This is so unfair!); and then it fades into the nothingness of acceptance (I don’t care anymore!). Some of us linger a little longer in the kicking-and-screaming phase and some progressed too quickly to a state of hopelessness, but collectively as a species we ride the same wave of grief.

God started talking to me during the early stages of the pandemic when I was still shrugging this off as another swine-flu, bird-flu, or Ebola. Something that wouldn’t come to my door. He really started poking me in the chest when I got angry at this thing and incessantly watched the news only to critique the efforts of the ‘idiots in charge’ — it made me feel like I still had some control over my life. And then, when the fear struck me and the picture-show in my head started replaying worst-case scenarios on a loop, I got a smack on the forehead.

Now is not the time for action. Now is not the time for planning and strategy. Now is not the time for logic and reasoning. Now is the time to be still and KNOW that I am YOUR GOD and I will do the fighting for you…

Yikes!

So, I look up and it’s the 28th of February! My last post was on the 6th of January! I was hoping to post after each week of Bible study but haven’t even started a structured study-plan yet! This is witch-craft!

Not really, but sort of. The reality is that if you don’t stop and prioritize spending time with God you will just put it off until you look up one day and a month, a year, or even a life-time is gone. It’s not as if I didn’t pray or read the Bible, or devotional texts, at all this year, but the aim was to make it purposeful part of my day – not something I do if I happen to wake up early enough or have some time left after we put the kids to bed. The reality is the only structured devotional time I have in my day is when I pray with the kids at bed-time and our son reads to us from his children’s page-a-day devotional. Just as a side-bar, I’ve lost count of the number of times God has spoken directly to me to me through this children’s book — and hearing it in the voice of my 10-year old son makes it all the more powerful.

My biggest challenge is time. I work a full-day and have a 4-hour (2-hour each way) commute. That’s the reality of my life. I try to make the most of my commute by listening to Christian books and the Bible on Audible, but I’m just not getting any quality devotional time from this. I need quiet God time. I crave it! I could get up an hour earlier … but, I just cannot seem to get it right. I fall asleep exhausted, and get up feeling equally exhausted. God has addressed me directly on this issue — as in, he’s used every possible communication channel to tell me that this is something I MUST DO. He’s all but yelled at me regarding the matter:

  • He talks to me in an obscure Petra song that I haven’t heard in 20 years. The lyrics from their song Sleeping Giant (from their 1993-album Wake Up Call) echoes in my head all day: Can you hear the alarm echo down the hall? The sleeping giant gets a wake up call. Awake from your sleep ’cause it’s time to stand tall. The sleeping giant gets a wake up call.
  • In February, three consecutive days in My Utmost for His Highest (the Oswald Chambers daily devotional) calls on the reader to Stand Up to battle despair, depression and disillusionment (the three D’s that keep me down and ‘asleep’).
  • The last three daily devotionals my son read at bed-time asks the reader to act with God’s guidance and to “take the first step”.

We blame all the overtly evil things in this world on the Devil, but I think that inaction — the weakness of the flesh — is perhaps the most harmful to the children of God as it ties you up in things (including snugly duvets) that keeps you busy or occupied without promoting forward movement. So, maybe the fact that I haven’t posted in nearly two months is witch-craft.

Ultimately, however, the call is on all of us to Stand Up — literally and figuratively. I’ll take up this challenge in the days that follow. I pray that God grants me the strength to shake off the blankets and cobwebs at 5 a.m. so I can spend some quality time with him.

Old Punks!

In my heart of hearts, in the deepest recesses of my being, hidden under dark oceans of responsible and socially normative behaviour, and mountains of conditioned politically correct ideologies, resides a crusty old punk with a mohawk and neck tattoos. Every year, as I adapt to more of the social expectations for a respectable man my age, I heap more ‘niceness’ (luxury and comfort) on him and pray to God that he wouldn’t suddenly rear his dirty liberty spikes while I’m adulting at my place of employ or running errands at the local super market. However, while year-on-year I slowly build a track record as a responsible, productive, even tempered and well-mannered adult, nothing seems to completely smother the embers of anarchy that squats under a bridge deep in my soul. There I’d be, trying to smooth over a misunderstanding with a fellow patron at the grocery store regarding queuing etiquette when all of a sudden, inside my skull, a pair of Doc Martens stomps my rational and polite mind to a pulp and up comes the clenched fist and a deviant sneer. Ninety-nine percent of the time I can put the brute back in the box, but sometimes I wonder whether he’s not there for a purpose greater than just burning the world to ashes in a fit of rage. What if this anti-social, anti-establishment, anti-authority — actually anti-everything — aspect of my personality actually serves a spiritual purpose. If this is part of me, the way God made me, is it not meant to be there, or is this the “sinful nature”, the “old ways” and “the ways of the flesh” the Bible asks us to lay down [See: Ephesians 4:22; Romans 6:6; and Romans: 8:5]? I’m not so sure.

My father, a pentecostal minister and dedicated Christ-follower, can get mad — like torrent-of-molten-lava-mad. But while this scared me as a kid seeing this type of anger and aggression coming from the pulpit during the Sunday service, I realise now that there is place for this type of ‘holy-fury’ — a controlled and justified expression of outrage when faced with spiritual conflict.

One of the most famous punks of all time, Johnny Rotten, entitled his autobiography Anger is an Energy and nothing could explain the punk-thing more perfectly. It is a powerful source of energy. The dilemma is that depending on who you’ve got behind the steering wheel of your life, that energy could propel you to spiritual freedom and the life of an assertive disciple of Christ, or it could drive you into a brick wall. The trick is to control the flow of energy, but realistically no man can do this by himself. You need to put the reigns of your life in the hands of God before you even attempt to let the punk loose.

In the Bible, I see this angry punk stomping around the temple when Jesus chased out the merchants [See: Matthew 21:12], I also hear him when Jesus challenged the authority of Caesar and King David in the presence of the religious leaders. The ultimate exhibition of punk-ness, however, was when Jesus rose from the dead! The ultimate deviance against the ultimate authority!

My little revelation for this week’s post? Get your relationship (communication and communion) with God right, and then let him channel this energy through you. The punk in all of us is both a powerful ally and adversary – make sure your punk is fighting for the right side!

Hold Fast!

Welcome to the Cross Tattoo Blog! Before delving into my first post, please read my scribblings in the About this Blog section.

Any armchair tattoo historian will tell you that while this particular form of body modification predates the dawn of civilisation, it was the American sailors of the late 1800’s who really popularised the practice and established the art form as we know it today. While the art of tattooing has evolved dramatically since then, the ‘archetypal’ maritime tattoos, a part of the canon of American Traditional tattoos, are still alive and well today and displayed proudly on the bodies of bikers, hipsters, and housewives the world over. For the sailors of the day, however, these tattoos were not meant to be worn as fashion accessories – they were badges of honour that had to be earned. The symbolism used in these tattoos silently communicated the achievements of the wearer to the maritime community. A tattoo of a single swallow, for instance, was an indication of 5000 miles nautical miles travelled while an anchor indicated the sailor had crossed the Atlantic, and crossed cannons marked military service. Even though the original meanings of this tattoo symbolism is largely irrelevant today, I found personal relevance in one of the earliest maritime tattoos. The words Hold Fast were tattooed across the knuckles to remind the wearer to remain steadfast regardless of the weather and to, well, hold on tightly to the oars or ropes they were handling. There was a time in my life when I needed to be reminded of this simple, yet powerful, motto, so I went ahead and got this tattoo.

To me, as to the early sailors, the words Hold Fast serves as more than a reminder to persevere in the face of adversity, it also means publicly acknowledging that you are not always holding fast, and that you struggle with weakness at times (or damn near all the time!). In my spiritual life, this held great significance for me as there is an unspoken expectation in the Christian community that one must appear to be strong or at least coping with whatever life throws at you. By openly displaying weakness and vulnerability, one may be perceived as unbelieving in the strength of God. This is a prime example of where the denominational culture (rules, behavioural attributes, promulgated by a denomination) directly contradicts the Bible. In 2 Corinthians 12: 9 – 10, Paul writes:

“I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities, for when I am weak, then I am strong“.

While this exclamation by Paul is by no means an isolated occurrence in the Bible [See 1 Corinthians 10:13; Romans 5:3-5], as Christians the perception is there that we cannot be seen as faltering or uncertain or questioning or struggling with our faith. Are these not the very things Paul tells us to boast about? Is the Bible not clear that we are instructed to reveal these very imperfections in our characters and display our struggles with the practicalities of discipleship so that we may create space for God to work in us?

At the heart of it, that is what I’m aiming to achieve with this blog – I want to create a space where I can imperfectly reflect on my struggles and weaknesses as I attempt to forge a path to authentic Christ-followership. Most importantly, I want to do this without oversight or guidance from any Christian authority. Like my heroes, Watchman Nee and Witness Lee, I want to get into the ‘work’ or prayer and Bible study so that I may learn how to establish an authentic relationship with God that is unfiltered in every conceivable way.

Until next time, Hold Fast and ‘tattoo’ these words from Jeremiah 29:11 on your heart:

“For I know the plans I have for you, … , plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope”.